Not Such a Good Idea
by heraldtalia
Summary: Was it really such a great idea to give a bunch of unknown potentials slayer power? AU, CHARACTER DEATH, post chosen, some mild Andrew and Xander SLASH, maybe some het later, angsty and dark eventually, most of the cast will be involved
1. Default Chapter

It had seemed like such a good idea at the time-or so Faith remembered anyway. The First was coming with its deadly armies, and it seemed as if the apocalypse might really happen this time. So B and Red came up with the idea that maybe there should be more than just two Slayers. After all, it was just some men who decided millennia ago that it should just be one, right? And to defeat The First, they needed help and they needed it fast. After all, just a single ubervamp had nearly put B in the hospital before she killed it. Take that one ubervamp and multiply it by a few hundred or even thousand, and there was no way two Slayers could win. So instead of two Slayers and a bunch of potentials, why not unlock the power each of the potentials had to save the world?  
Yeah, Faith thought as she felt her legs finally starting to give out after hours of running. Brilliant idea, B.  
Actually, Faith had reservations about Red's spell from the beginning. She knew from personal experience that the power of the Slayer was overwhelming. Nowhere was it written that a Slayer had to be a white hat. Hadn't Faith herself partnered with Mayor Wilkins, nearly strangled Xander Harris, and stolen B's body, among other things? So the idea of suddenly slamming a whole bunch of strange girls all over the world with this power with no warning or explanation and not nearly enough Watchers left to guide them hadn't seemed to her to be the brightest. But they were desperate. They thought most of the potentials were either killed by the Bringers or already staying at Buffy's place. After Faith had led the potentials right into a detonating bomb, she really wasn't up to arguing.  
So, Red cast the spell and the potentials got their power. Turns out Spike and his amulet probably killed more of the First's army than all the potentials, Buffy, and Faith herself combined, but hey-they won. Who cared about the details?  
No one had expected Willow's spell to go so horribly wrong.  
The Slayer's name was Abigail. No one knew her last name. All Faith knew was that the girl had come from an abusive family in some small town Midwest. Apparently, Daddy had been in the middle of beating on Abigail when the power hit. The girl had reacted to a lifetime of mistreatment by pummeling her father so badly they had to use his dental records to identify him. Faith could appreciate and understand that. She would even have sympathized with the girl if Abbey hadn't gone off and pounded nearly half her town into the dirt. Abbey had power now and was never going to be a victim again.  
The Bringers hadn't done nearly the job of eliminating the Slayer line that B and the Scoobies had thought. There were girls popping up with power all over the place-the kind of power that terrified the normals, and the news was obsessed with the horror stories. Some toddler in London, not knowing her own strength, accidentally snapped another kid's spine during a hug. A teenage girl in Philly had gotten into a fistfight at school and broken the other kid's neck. The press was full of horror stories like that, though they never seemed to notice the good any of these new super- powered-girls did. It was a well-known fact of human history that people feared what they didn't understand, so a good number of the girls were persecuted and even killed. There were even some preachers saying these girls got their power from the devil himself, and at least one girl had been burned alive by her family when they found out. Abbey had made a mission of finding the other girls like her, giving them a place to call home and to feel like they belonged. She had several witches working with her, helping her find them all. Problem was, the world had dealt Abbey a cruel hand from the time she was born to the day she finally killed her father-and nothing she had seen in the treatment of other Slayers since convinced her that the world was a friendly place for her kind. Between the child abuse, a lifetime of teasing, and the panicked reaction of the normals, she was convinced that the world sucked and pretty damned corrupted by the power. Add a small army of Slayer-powered girls to the mix, plus some pretty powerful witches and even some half demons who were tired of hiding and had found a place where they'd be accepted, and Abbey was becoming almost as much of a danger as The First ever was.  
And I just had to become a white hat. Faith thought bitterly. If I had stayed like I was, I woulda been fine with Abbey's army. Fucking Angel. I should kick his ass next time I see him for making me want to leave the dark side.  
She had been running for far too long. It seemed that Abbey had eyes everywhere. Word was, once Abbey found out where her power came from, she had become obsessed. After all, if Willow had given her the power, presumably she could take it away too. Of course, Red was a broken shell of what she used to be before a mob had torn Kennedy to pieces. Losing two loves in such a short time was too much for Willow, and Faith couldn't really blame her for sinking into a depression. But, Abbey didn't know that, and despite the fact that she had surrounded herself with witches, Slayers, and powerful demons, she was determined to find Willow and make sure she could never reverse the spell. That meant she was also after Willow's friends.  
Friends. Yeah, right.  
There was no love lost between Willow and Faith, although Faith had to admit Red had good reason not to trust her. Given all that Willow was going through, Faith wasn't going to push the issue. She wouldn't want to be in Red's shoes for all the money in the world.  
It seemed like the demons that were chasing her would never tire out. Faith knew she couldn't take much more of this. She needed to lose them and get someplace safe.  
The demons were very close to her now. Funny how many demons worked with Abigail. When she had first become a Slayer, Faith had assumed all demons were bad. Turns out that wasn't a fair assumption-and lucky for Clem and Lorne they'd figured that out. These demons probably weren't evil either-which sucked because that made Faith and her new conscience that much less comfortable with killing them even to save herself.  
Angel, you fucking asshole! Time was, I'd have killed them easily, no sweat. But nooooo.  
She didn't really blame Angel of course, nor did she wish she were still on the wrong side. Still, that didn't mean she couldn't vent when her legs were jelly and her lungs felt like they were about to burst.  
Come on! Just give up on me already!  
Faith was starting to seriously consider the possibility that she'd have to fight them. Yeah, she was outnumbered by 20 to one, and maybe they weren't totally evil, but she'd already been running for hours. Besides, when it came down to it, she was still Faith and she still valued her own life over the lives of demons who wanted her dead, evil or not. If they wanted a fight, she would rather do it while she was still capable of standing.  
Faith stopped running and turned around. They were in the middle of nowhere, nothing but grass and a few trees all around. That meant her pursuers had no place to hide and she could at least see them coming.  
Damn, they are fucking ugly. And I bet they bleed that green blood that gets in your clothes and never comes out. Yeah. Good. It's easier to kill an ugly not-evil demon than a cute one. Are there any cute demons?  
Faith had just managed to get her legs to stop shaking enough to put on a good fighting stance when a familiar ugly brown car that had tape on the door came swerving into view. Andrew was inside, shouting at her to get in fast.  
Don't need to ask me twice.  
Faith yanked the door open and dove inside. She had barely closed the door behind her when Andrew floored the pedal and they went speeding off. "Thanks," she panted, gazing at the rapidly fading demons in the rear- view mirror. "That was wicked good timing."  
"Don't mention it," Andrew said softly. He sounded tired.  
"Long night?" Faith asked. God, her legs ached worse now than they did when she had been running.  
Andrew nodded silently. Faith took this as a sign that he didn't feel like talking, so she just let him drive in peace. Frankly, she didn't feel like talking just now either. 


	2. part 2

There was only so much silence Faith could take, and since she was still out of breath that left the radio. The piece of shit car had no antenna, so no decent stations came in, assuming there were even any out here to begin with. The only thing that came in was a local talk radio station. Some Limbaugh-wannabe was on air, spewing about how the government had done nothing to protect "normal citizens" against this new threat, and the rising of demons and super-powered girls was clearly a sign of the second coming. Faith snorted and turned off the radio. Silence was better than listening to that shit.  
  
"We're like the X-Men," Andrew said beside her. "Fighting to protect a world that hates and fears us."  
  
Faith had to smile at that. That almost sounded like the old Andrew-the self-proclaimed geek who had maintained his enthusiasm and optimism despite what he had done and seen. "Guess so."  
  
"But they really have no idea, do they? How often the world has almost ended."  
  
Faith shook her head. "They don't know. They don't wanna know."  
  
Andrew nodded. "I guess they don't."  
  
They spent the rest of the ride in silence and Faith soon found herself drifting off. She didn't even notice when Andrew turned down the dirt road and pulled up to the abandoned hovel that they were currently using as their hideout. He shook her shoulder, and she got out of the car with a groan. Sitting still after hours of running had only made her legs ache more, which really should not have been humanly possible. Andrew reached in the seat behind her and pulled out a bag of groceries-if you could call a selection of chips and snack cakes "groceries".  
  
"Dinner, huh?" Faith asked.   
  
Andrew nodded. "It's not much, I know. There isn't much around here and I didn't want to leave him alone for long," he apologized.  
  
"Shit, Andrew. After the day I've had, I'd even eat Xander's cooking."  
  
She had intended it to be nothing more than a little quip to lighten the moment, but at the mention of the other boy's name, Andrew's face saddened.   
  
"Harris not holding up too well, is he?" Faith asked.  
  
Andrew shook his head. "He hardly eats anymore. It's Anya, you know. I mean, the eye and Willow and Abigail and everything else have him down too, but I think it's mainly Anya that did it. He feels responsible. He tried to act like it didn't matter right after the fight, like he was okay with it. That his girl did well. But he couldn't lie to himself forever. I was the one who was with her. I was the one who didn't guard her back." He turned and looked at Faith with an expression of utter heartbreak and guilt that the Slayer would never have guessed he was feeling before this conversation. "In the end, I was useless. She may have survived if she weren't looking out for me."  
  
Faith stared at the young man silently for a moment. She knew she could have told him that it wasn't his fault, that he did his best, and that hindsight was 20/20, but she knew it wouldn't matter. Someone had probably told him these things already, but it wouldn't change how he felt. She knew, because she felt the same way. Not about Anya, but about the girls who had died in the explosion and in the battle that followed. People could tell you forever that you had done your best, but that sometimes just didn't help.  
  
Andrew knocked on the door in the pattern they had invented, said the password, and Harris opened the door. Faith had to admit Xander really did look pretty pathetic. He had taken even less care with his hair and ratty clothing than he normally did in happier times, and the eye that he still had was always filled with sadness. Andrew was talking to him, asking if any of the others had returned (they hadn't), trying to coax him to eat. Faith noticed that Andrew kept touching Xander a lot more than was strictly necessary. She wondered if there was something going on there. Everyone knew Andrew was gay. He couldn't have been much more obvious if he tried. She wondered if Xander even noticed the way Andrew was touching him, oh so carefully and gently, brushing lanky bangs out of Xander's face and stroking his arm, trying to coax him to eat, or the way Andrew smiled with such fondness when the elder man finally gave in and shoved a pack of Ho Hos down his throat.   
  
Actually, Faith doubted Harris noticed. He didn't seem to notice much of anything past his own unhappiness.  
  
With a sigh, Faith helped herself to a bag of cheese puffs and flopped onto the dilapidated sofa. Andrew and Xander didn't seem to want to ask if her mission had been successful, and since it hadn't, she wasn't going to bring it up. It wasn't her fault that the relic Willow wanted had already been found by Abbey's men, and she was too tired to really think about it now.  
  
She had drifted into a daze when she heard the familiar pattern of knocking on the door. Xander and Andrew had gone back into the kitchen, so she figured she'd better answer it, even though the idea of walking was not one she relished.  
  
"Password?"  
  
"Dumbledore," Dawn's voice responded. Faith thought maybe it was time to let someone other than Andrew choose the passwords.  
  
"Fine. Just a sec."   
  
With a groan, Faith moved the chair Xander had shoved up under the door handle away and opened it. When she saw who was standing on the other side, she dropped her cheese puffs on the floor.   
  
"Hello, Pet."  
  
"You...you're dead!" Faith said, staring at the bleached blonde vampire in shock.  
  
Dawn looked very pleased with herself. "Looky who I found!" 


	3. part 3

Xander looked terrible. Andrew knew the older man had not been sleeping well, but it was more than that. The features on the man in front of him were all familiar, eye-patch and all, but Andrew couldn't help but feel like if the Sunnydale Class of 1999 were holding its fifth anniversary reunion this year (not likely), many of Xander's former classmates may not have recognized him.   
  
It was hard for Andrew to pinpoint exactly what was different about the brunette that made his heart ache. Was it the slumped shoulders, the threadbare clothes, the lankiness in the hair, the paleness of the skin, or the dark circle under his remaining eye? Was it the way Xander shuffled rather than walked, or how his voice always sounded so drained? Was it the way that Xander had given up on all pretexts of lightening the situations with a timely joke here and there? The elder man had even given up on the self-mocking quips he used to offer in nearly every conversation the Scoobies had...  
  
Okay, so maybe he had pinpointed a whole bunch of things right there, but it still made Andrew's heart throb with sympathy and maybe something more.  
  
Andrew privately thought that the other Scoobies-with the possible exceptions of Dawn and of course Anya-had always taken Xander for granted. He had stood by them so loyally for so long. Andrew supposed that the girls had just assumed he would always be there. He was comfortable, like a favorite sweater you keep wearing around the house even though it was missing buttons and beginning to unravel, and in Andrew's opinion, they showed him about the same concern they would show said sweater. In the short time Andrew had spent first observing the Scoobies as enemies and then as their prisoner, how often had they sent Xander out for menial tasks, like fetching donuts, when it was clear he wanted so badly to contribute more? Everyone seemed to know that Xander was from a broken home with alcoholic parents, but did anyone ever seem to wonder what effect that would have on him? Most annoyingly in Andrew's mind was the simple fact that as a construction worker, Xander had a very difficult and exhausting job. Yet they still expected him to come to all of their meetings and even make repairs to the Summers' frequently wrecked home after a full day of manual labor. When Buffy had briefly worked at the Double Meat Palace, everyone seemed to notice how tired she was, but then again, Buffy was the Slayer and for some reason that seemed to make the Scoobies feel she was entitled to more consideration than the rest of them. No wonder Buffy had a superiority complex.  
  
During his tenure as prisoner/guest in Buffy's home, Andrew found that he was more comfortable with Xander than anyone else there. Xander didn't look down his nose at him the way the others did, he didn't ignore him the way the others did, and he knew the difference between Babylon 5 and Star Trek. Being around Xander made Warren and Jonathan's absence hurt less, even if Anya was more than a little scary. To be fair, after Caleb had crushed Xander's eye, Willow at least had become downright overprotective, though Buffy stayed as chilly and impenetrable as ever. Ironic that it took Xander nearly becoming blinded for his friends to see him again. But Kennedy's death at the hands of an angry mob had made Willow into even more of a shell than Xander was. Andrew supposed he couldn't blame Willow. She had already lost Tara, and after the many times Buffy had conquered death, it seemed that nothing could kill a Slayer now that the first was defeated. Willow had loved Kennedy after all, although Andrew privately felt more sympathy for the potential who had hung herself after Kennedy's stinging words than he did for the dead Slayer, no matter what Buffy had said after the suicide about how the girl was supposedly weak. So, Andrew had decided he would look after Xander himself.  
  
Xander was putting away the "groceries", and Andrew felt like he couldn't tear his eyes from the older man. The brunette was moving slowly, as if the simple act of taking a box of Little Debbies out of a bag and putting them in a cabinet was physically and emotionally exhausting. "Did you sleep at all last night?"  
  
Xander had clearly been lost in his own world again. He jumped and dropped the box as though the sound of Andrew's voice had come as a complete shock to him. "What?"  
  
Andrew stepped closer to Xander. "Did you sleep at all last night?"  
  
Xander gave a brave smile that was small and obviously forced. "Yeah. Yeah, I slept fine."  
  
Andrew sighed. "You're lying to me."  
  
Xander stared back at Andrew for long moments in silence. When he answered, his voice was shaking and edged, as though he were on the brink of hysteria. "It's just...every time I close my eyes...I mean my eye...hey, you could call me Cyclops now if you wanted."  
  
"That's a faulty metaphor," Andrew said gently. "Cyclops has two eyes under his visor."  
  
"I meant the monster, not the mutant."  
  
"Oh. I'm sorry. Go on."  
  
"I...I see her. I see her at the altar. I see her reaching for me. I see her getting killed and I wasn't even there. I wasn't there to help her... And she never knew. She never knew how much I cared..." Xander's hands started to shake. As Andrew watched, the tremors spread up his arms and through his whole body. The Little Debbies fell from Xander's nerveless fingers and his tenuous hold on maintaining calm slipped. Out of instinct more than anything else, Andrew quickly wrapped his arms around the elder man, rubbing his back, making soothing nonsense noises against Xander's ear. Xander clung to him tightly.   
  
"I'm sorry," Xander said hoarsely. "I'm sorry."  
  
Andrew hugged Xander tighter. "There's no reason to be."  
  
"I'm sorry," Xander repeated. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't be crying like this. I'm sorry."  
  
Xander's closeness was overwhelming. Andrew felt as though he were immersed in him-his smell, his voice, his touch. As Xander forced himself back into calm and started to pull away, face flushed with unnecessary shame, Andrew leaned back in on impulse and pressed his lips against Xander's forehead, lingering there for a sweet moment before Xander's voice broke the reverie.  
  
"Uh...Andrew? What are you doing?"  
  
Andrew's eyes flew open and he realized he hadn't noticed that he'd closed them. His face flushed and the panicked look on Xander's face was devastating. His brain raced for some lame excuse-anything other than the truth-but like a godsend the commotion from the living room saved him from having to say anything, at least for now.  
  
The accented voice was so familiar, and Faith's shouted "But you're dead" confirmed what Andrew heard. He and Xander hurried out into the living room to find Spike standing there, looking for all the world as though he hadn't been burned from the inside out mere months in the past. Dawn was looking very pleased with herself, and Faith just looked stunned.   
  
"You're dead," Xander said from behind him, sounding very confused.  
  
"Yeah, well, what can I say? You wankers will never be rid of me that easily," Spike said with his familiar smirk.  
  
Spike was here, alive-or as alive as the undead could be. Andrew's brain couldn't seem to cruise past that concept, and a million scenarios of returning from the dead he had read in comic books and seen in movies swarmed his mind before he decided it didn't really matter how the vampire had come back. Spike was a powerful ally who would undoubtedly help their cause. More importantly, the Brit had completely distracted Xander. With any luck, the brunette would forget completely about the stolen kiss. With a shout of glee, Andrew threw himself at the startled and decidedly unthrilled vampire and hugged him as though they were best friends.  
  
Author's notes:  
  
Bsktballchik: Thanks for giving me my first review on this story! I will do my best to keep updating this on at least a semi-regular bass. ^_^ As for couples, I guess you can see it's Andrew/Xander, and I'm not sure about everyone else yet, though I may go against my own prejudices and put some het in here too. Suggestions are more than welcome!  
  
Cliia: I adore you and you are awesome! Thanks for the beta! 


	4. part 4

::one week earlier::  
  
Spike had seen some pretty gruesome things in his time. Hell, he'd been the cause of many of them. Even so, the sight of the unborn infant tearing its way out of its mother's stomach had to be one of the worst things to sear itself into Spike's soul. It was a good thing he didn't need to sleep, because the image would certainly have kept him up at night, replaying on the insides of his eyelids as clearly as the first time he saw it.  
  
The news stations would not stop repeating it, and the papers couldn't seem to report on it enough. Some Senator had been on a re-election campaign, touring his home state with his wife and three adult children to prove what a wholesome family man he was-so above the DC cesspool and all that. One of his children was a sweet-looking young girl, eight and a half months pregnant. It was clear from the circles under her eyes and the strain in her smile that it had been a difficult pregnancy. Still, no one could possibly have been prepared for the horror that occurred at an elementary school that was the setting of one of the Senator's key televised speeches; his unborn grandchild had been seized by its destiny and Slayer power. In that moment of evolution, she decided she wanted out of mommy's womb now. The baby literally tore her way through her screaming mother's flesh and entered the world. The young mother died before she even reached the hospital. A whole school full of children and teachers, not to mention everyone who had been watching the live broadcast and those who didn't heed the warnings to look away in the many re-broadcasts, were left traumatized for the rest of their lives. Spike didn't know what had happened to the baby Slayer, but he wouldn't have bet it was home in a comfy crib or Daddy's loving arms.   
  
The little girl sitting in front of Angel's desk at Wolfram and Hart could not have been older than thirteen, but she had the look and feel or someone much older. She had seen too much and could never go back to pre-teen sleepovers and magazine quizzes about pop stars. The girl looked down at the newspaper on Angel's desk, with a picture of the dead mother's husband cradling his wife's body in his arms while the Senator stared down in utter shock. "I guess I'm lucky my power didn't hit until I was already born. What do you think they'll do to her?"  
  
"To who?" Angel asked, clearly distracted.  
  
"To the baby, you dumbass," the girl said impatiently. Spike kind of liked this girl.  
  
"I don't know," Angel replied, just a bit snippishly.   
  
"I wonder if they'll kill her," the girl continued. "I wonder if this is what will happen with everyone in the Slayer bloodline conceived from now on."  
  
"I really don't know. Why are you here? What do you want?"  
  
Well, Spike thought, it wasn't as though manners were ever Angel's strongest attribute-even if he was just talking to a child.  
  
"Abbey sent me," the girl said, gazing at Angel intently. "We know your prior relationship to the Primary Slayer, and we know the power you hold here. Abbey wants to know where Wolfram and Hart stands. She would like to have you as an ally, but she knows it's probably not possible."  
  
"Well, Wolfram & Hart won't have anything to do with her little bid to take over the world. If that's all you want, then get the hell out," Angel snapped.  
  
"You know, mate," Spike said from his position of standing behind Angel's chair. "We could try talking to the girl a bit more." 'And find out more about Abigail and her little crusade. It's not like we get this chance every day.'  
  
"Shut up, Spike."  
  
"If that's your answer then," the girl said, her dead eyes still gazing at the photo in the newspaper.   
  
"It is," Angel said, his face the very picture of angry resolve. "Now get out of my office."  
  
"Fair enough." The girl rose to her feet abruptly. Spike was amazed at how tiny this girl was, even standing up. She turned on her heel and walked briskly out of the office.  
  
"Don't say a word, Spike," Angel warned.  
  
"Not a peep, mate," Spike said sarcastically. "Certainly not about how we could have tried to get some more information about Abigail and her missions from the girl."  
  
"I doubt she knew anything. She was just a messenger. I'm surprised they were stupid enough to send her here."  
  
"But we don't know for sure that she knew nothing, now, do we?"  
  
Angel ignored the other vampire, choosing instead to punch a button on his phone. "Blood, Harmony," he ordered, then cut the mike before the perky blonde could even finish saying, "Sure thing, Boss!"  
  
"You realize now that we will probably never get another chance like that again, Angelus."  
  
Angel pulled a folder out of a drawer and started ruffling through it as though the younger vampire had not even spoken.   
  
"She was a little girl, for Christ's sake! I can't believe you were scared to talk to a little girl."  
  
Angel slammed the folder shut and was silent for several long moments. When he finally spoke, his voice was as cold as Spike had ever heard it. "If you want to fraternize with someone who is out to kill Buffy..."  
  
"Watch it, mate," Spike snapped, the ice in his voice an easy match for his grandsire's. "Which of the two of us was the one who died for her, and which of the two of us just took off when The First was rising?"  
  
Angel was out of his expensive leather chair in less than a heartbeat. He slammed the bleached vamp against the wall. "I would have stayed."  
  
"But you didn't." Spike couldn't resist a smirk.  
  
"I would have. She told me to go."  
  
"And you always do as you're told, don't you Angel?"  
  
Angel was about to say something else, but the chirping of his intercom interrupted him. "Not now, Harmony!"  
  
"But Boss," Harmony insisted on the other side of the line. "I think you really should take this visitor."  
  
"Fine." Angel ground the word out through gritted teeth and released Spike. "I don't know why you're hanging around here, but if you ever mention her again, I won't be held responsible for what I do."  
  
"Don't worry, mate," Spike said, readjusting his trench coat. "I don't intend to be here much longer anyway."  
  
"Spike?"  
  
Spike looked up at the sound of his name to see Dawn Summers standing in the doorway. Before he could fully process the situation, she ran up to him and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him with enough force that he was glad he didn't need to breathe anymore. "Little bit?"  
  
Dawn pulled away just enough to look Spike in the face. It had only been a few months, but she looked as though she had aged years. Of course, that was not too surprising given the life she had probably been living. She was also taller, as though a growth spurt had hit with a vengeance and she was now taller than Spike-though the vampire hoped it was partly due to the heels on her shoes.  
  
"Dawn," Angel said awkwardly. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"I came to see you. I was in town, getting some stuff for Willow, and figured I'd stop by," Dawn answered, sounding distracted. Clearly, her attention was far more focused Spike than on Angel. "How are you here, Spike? I know you died. Buffy said she saw you die. We didn't..." Dawn's eyes widened in horror. "We didn't leave you buried in that rubble alive, did we? Oh, god, Spike, I'm so sorry! If we had known..."  
  
"No, pet," Spike said fondly. Apparently, dying for Buffy had been enough to make Dawn like him again. "We still don't know how I came back. I just sort of...showed up here."  
  
"What? How long ago?"  
  
"A few months back. I was a ghosty for a while. Just got my body back two days ago."  
  
"Months!" Dawn said in disbelief. "Months?" The younger Summers turned to face Angel, the anger on her face an easy match for any anger her sister had ever expressed at her darkest. "Why didn't you tell us?"  
  
Angel looked around the room awkwardly. "Well...you know...it just...it just..."  
  
Dawn put her hands on her hips and tapped her foot impatiently.  
  
"It never came up," Angel finished lamely.  
  
"It never came up?" Dawn shouted. "How could it never come up?"  
  
Spike stared at Angel silently. The hate was filling him, and a little bit of hurt as well. He knew his grandsire hated him, but didn't think he hated him so much that he would keep Spike's return a secret. Was Angel that jealous? Spike knew that while Buffy cared for him in her own way, her heart belonged to Angel and she would never truly love Spike. He had always known, even before he watched them kiss the day before he sacrificed himself to the flames. He had told her so as he burned, though not in as many words, and she hadn't denied it. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised. After all, if Angel had failed to mention that he had a soul to the rest of the Wolfram and Hart staff, who didn't care about him at all, why would he tell Buffy or the Scoobies-some of whom did care about him-that Spike had returned from the dead?  
  
Dawn was chewing Angel a new one. The little bit was all grown up and had quite a temper. It was kind of funny watching Angel cringe in front of this waif of a girl. It was surprising that Angel's lack of regard for Spike cut him so deeply. Why should he care? He shouldn't care. To hell with Angel.  
  
Spike had never been more happy to have his body back as he felt when Dawn, having finally finished giving Angel a piece of her mind, asked Spike to come with her. He didn't even bother to stop and say goodbye to Fred. He couldn't get out of the law firm quickly enough.  
  
Author's notes:  
  
Cliia-You are still the best beta ever. You help me be a better writer.  
  
Bsktbllchik-Thanks! I promise I will read your stuff too!  
  
Emmy-I swear I had planned on having the baby thing even before your review. It's good to know that I'm not the only one who thought it was stupid to wake up a bunch of slayers all at once. Thanks for the review. 


	5. part 5

::Author's note: Since I can't seem to get the italics to work when I upload documents to fanfiction.net, I will be using single quotes to indicate thought. ^_^::  
  
Having Spike back was a godsend, and Faith knew it was not just the vampire's fighting abilities that made it so. Spike's re-emergence after everyone thought he was dead seemed to have ignited a sense of hope in their ragtag little gang. It was the first positive thing to happen since Angel first told Faith about The First all those endless months ago. Just having something, anything, go their way for once made her feel better.  
  
'Maybe the whole world isn't a cosmic joke and fate isn't out to fuck me up the ass.'  
  
Even beyond that, Spike was making a real effort to act like his old self, lightening the mood with a sarcastic comment here and there, often at his own expense or playfully at the expense of others. They had been sorely lacking in humor for some time. The vampire's jokes were damned refreshing.  
  
Plus, let's face it-Spike was wicked easy on the eyes.  
  
There had been no word from Giles, Willow, or Buffy in weeks. No one knew where they were or even if they were okay. In a way, the not knowing was worse than if they knew for sure something was wrong. It was that horrible sense of hope when you knew you had a really good chance of being disappointed that was driving them all insane. Given Spike's continued addiction to B's charms, Faith was surprised he hadn't run off on his own. She supposed it was Dawn that kept him here. The way to the Slayer's heart was through protecting her kid sister, or so she imaged Spike thought. It was kind of pathetic, really. From all Faith could see, B had treated the bleached blonde with even less consideration than Faith herself treated her own boy toys. Faith didn't get it, and she thought it was sad. At least Faith never pretended to care about her castoffs.  
  
The bottom line was, if they didn't hear something soon, Faith knew they'd have to move on their own, and to hell with her promise to Buffy that they'd stay put in this abandoned shithole until she and Red returned. The last thing Faith wanted was for half-pint to finally convince Spike that her sister needed saving and for the two of them to disappear in the middle of the night. No way. She did not need that at all.  
  
And wasn't it just typical of Faith's luck in life that right when she finally decided they would need to move, that bitch called fate stepped in and took the choice from her?  
  
Faith didn't know how Abbey's army found them in their abandoned little shack in the middle of nowhere. It wasn't like it really mattered anyway. The point was, they were screwed and never stood a chance.  
  
The feeling of all that unbridled Slayer power crackling in the dark was one of the most unnerving things Faith had ever experienced in her already unsettled life. She was flipping through some cheesy beauty magazine that Andrew bought when the sensation of the power hit her like an electric shock. She dropped the forgotten magazine on the floor and rose quickly to her feet. Apparently, she wasn't the only one who could sense the sudden tension in the air because Spike was suddenly beside her, gazing at the moth-eaten curtains on the living room window with an expression of bleak resignation. "There's something out there," he said softly.  
  
"Yeah," Faith said with a frown. She had never been more grateful for Spike's presence than she did at that moment. "I feel it too."  
  
****  
  
This was getting ridiculous, Andrew thought. It wasn't as though life in this hellhole weren't bleak enough without adding this new tension to the situation. It was one kiss! Just one! No reason to go avoiding Xander for the rest of their time here because of it. Besides, it was entirely possible that Xander was too dead inside to fully comprehend what happened. It was a tiny shack they lived in and it wasn't like either of them left very often. The only other people there besides the two of them were Spike, Faith, and Dawn, so it was getting pretty darn complicated trying to stay out of Xander's sight.  
  
'We're both mature adults here. I'm sure we can handle this like reasonable people.'  
  
Besides, it wasn't just the tension and avoiding Andrew couldn't handle. It was the loneliness.   
  
It was surprising just how much he missed talking to Xander. None of the others seemed to really notice either of them, and even if they did, Andrew didn't have much in common with any of them. He felt like the two of them were connected somehow-like Luke and Leia.  
  
'Somehow I've always known... Incest! Bad metaphor! Bad!'  
  
Okay, maybe it was more like a lifebond, like in those Mercedes Lackey novels...  
  
'Getting off track here.'  
  
Then again, didn't all lifebonded feel like their heart had been ripped out until that one shiny moment when they found their partner and realized they were fated to be together? And wouldn't Xander look so lovely in that white uniform, riding on his proud white steed? Andrew could even be the steed...  
  
'Ewww! Horses and men! Focus, Andrew. Focus!!!'  
  
Whatever the reason, Andrew felt a connection to Xander and missed him terribly. He missed their talks, and their shared bond of being a couple of relatively unremarkable guys surrounded by remarkable people. He missed the tenor of Xander's voice and the width of his smile, even if that smile was always strained now. Even a forced smile was better than nothing.   
  
The shocked and panicked look on Xander's face when Andrew had kissed him still festered in the younger man's heart and haunted his dreams. It cut even deeper than Andrew could have imagined. Of course, what had expected? Xander had come within a hair of marrying Anya, and his appreciation of the female form was spoken loud and often in happier days in the past. If Andrew could turn back time, he would have taken the kiss back. The price for it was entirely too high.  
  
Gathering his resolve, Andrew forced his resisting feet to walk toward the glorified closet that Xander was using as a bedroom. His stomach was twisting and churning, but he made himself rap on the door.  
  
'Play it cool and casual, like Timothy Dalton. Play it cool and casual, like Dalton's James Bond, not over-the-top like Myers' Austin Powers. Yeah. I'm calm like Bond-never cracking under pressure. We're adults. I can handle this.'  
  
Andrew heard Xander shuffling on the other side of the door. In a few moments, the door opened and the brunette was standing there, looking for all the world like a caged and one-eyed bunny rabbit. "Uh...Andrew." Long pause. "Hi."  
  
The door was barely cracked enough for Andrew to see more than Xander's fingers leaning against the frame, his eye and a little bit of disheveled brown hair. 'Oh, god, I'm gonna puke. I wonder if this is how Harry felt before that first Quidditch match?' "Hi... Can I come in?"  
  
Xander looked positively horrified. "Sure," he said, his voice flat from an obvious attempt at sounding calm.  
  
Andrew stood awkwardly for several moments in front of the still barely cracked door before speaking. "Umm...well, for me to come in, you kind of have to let me open the door."  
  
Xander stared at the other man for a moment as if lost in comprehension before finally nodding and backing away from the door.  
  
Every instinct in Andrew's body was telling him to just go away, to turn tail and run, but he managed to force himself to walk into the room.   
  
"Look, Andrew..."  
  
"No, please let me speak," Andrew said, holding up at hand. Now that his mouth was working, the words were flowing like water breaking a dam. "Listen, I want to apologize for making you uncomfortable. I promise it won't happen again. It's clear you don't feel that way about me..."  
  
"Andrew..."  
  
"No, little one. Let me finish. I guess there's no point in lying about it now. I like you. You know that. You don't like me. I know that now too. You're the forbidden fruit. It's like you're Aragorn and I'm Eowyn...well only if Eowyn was a guy. Your heart belongs to someone else and I can't compete."  
  
"Andrew..."  
  
"I can handle all of that. What I can't handle is not being able to talk to you. I miss you and I worry about you. I can't be this close to you, facing life or death at any time and not be able to talk like we used to. I can't go back. I can't change the past. But we do have the power to change the future."  
  
"Andrew," Xander said, a little more firmly. "Listen...it's just...I don't...I can't..." Xander paused in mid stutter, his expression changing from discomfort to fear as he stared out of the window behind Andrew's head. "What is that?"  
  
"What?" Andrew was barely able to turn around before a strange girl broke through the cracking plaster wall. Another followed, and more still, and the world dissolved into chaos.   
  
::Author's notes::  
  
I'd again like to thank my kid sister and my buddy Cliia for the continued feedback and support for both of my stories. You're both the best. ^_^  
  
I will do my best to update ASAP since I ended on a cliffhanger, but will probably need to write another chapter for my other story first, so I can't promise how soon it will be.  
  
Feedback response:  
  
bsktballchik: Thanks again for your support and keep on writing yourself! My dislike of Buffy herself has a lot to do with why she hasn't appeared in the story to date.  
  
Schiavona: Well, I'm sorry you don't like that I am slashing Xander and Andrew, but I feel the need to point out that I did put a slash warning on the story description. If that's enough to make you stop reading, so be it. 


	6. part 6

'God-dammit! Where the hell are you, B?'  
  
Faith drove her arm squarely into yet another Slayer's throat. The girl coughed and fell, but there were dozens of others ready to take the fallen girl's place. They just kept on coming. Faith could have sworn there were hundreds of them.  
  
'Focus, Faith. Focus. You don't feel pain. You don't feel exhaustion. You are one of two people who really knows how to fight here, and you're outnumbered by more than you want to think about. Can't afford to slip up here. Just can't.'  
  
It was like her body was on autopilot-a robot programmed to fight and slaughter. There had been a time when Faith had enjoyed the fight. Hell, she had lived for it, and a really foul kill had always made her all tingly deep down. Back then, a good kill had been better than sex. For years, she had feared that part of her-the part that reveled in doing violence that she always feared would drag her back into the darkness. Well, the numbness that was now taking over her mind and body told her she needn't have feared. There was no joy in this, only emptiness, and she was no longer sure if that was preferable to the fire. Maybe Harris wasn't the only one who was dead inside.  
  
For all Faith knew, she was the only one left fighting.   
  
Kick, punch, pull, and do it again.   
  
The others could all be dead or wishing they were, and she would have no idea.   
  
Bite, throw, crush. Ignore the blood that was running into her eyes and hazing her vision. Just fight. Survive.   
  
"Oh god, no!"  
  
The horrified note in Spike's voice snapped Faith out of her mechanical state. She whirled around just in time to see the Brit double over and heave.  
  
'Jesus Christ.'  
  
The body at Spike's feet was far too tiny, just a little girl. Faith guessed she could not have been older than 10 at best, though it was hard to tell given that Spike had torn the girl's throat out.  
  
"No," Spike said, dropping to his knees beside the dead girl. "No. I'm not a monster anymore. I didn't realize." He shook the body as if he could shake life back into the child. "NO!!!!!!!!!!"  
  
'Shit!'   
  
"Spike! Snap out of it!" There was no time. No time to mourn for the dead, even if they were only children.  
  
Faith was about to go to the vampire's aid when a dragging weight made her realize she was holding something. She glanced down to see her blood-coated hand wrapped around an old lady's neck.  
  
'Guess Slayers really do come in all ages,' said a hysterical little voice in the back of Faith's mind. She had literally squeezed the elderly woman's neck so tightly, she hadn't just crushed it, she'd made it completely collapse. The gray-haired head was tilted at an unnatural angle, the eyes bulged, the lips were covered in dried blood. It reminded Faith of when she was a kid, popping the heads off dandelions. Faith shrieked, releasing her hold, horrified at the feel of blood and flesh and other unspeakable things in her hand. The gray head separated from the lady's shoulders and her body went down. For reasons she couldn't quite grasp right now, it bothered Faith tremendously to find the elderly Slayer's glasses crushed beneath Faith's boots.  
  
'No. Not again. Blood. So much blood.'  
  
Faith stared at her hands in horror, Spike and his similar crisis entirely forgotten. It was happening again. It was just like being back in Angel's basement again, the blood of the assassin Wolfram and Hart sent after her slicking her palms. Angel was wrong. No matter how hard she tried, she was a killer. Always would be.  
  
A voice in the recesses of Faith's mind was yelling at her to fight, to give in to her survival instincts once more. The sound of Dawn screaming was enough to make her pay attention to that voice, but it was too late. She had stood still too long. Something hard and heavy slammed into her temple and she went down, fighting darkness.  
  
Her vision swam red, and the noise around her sounded like it was echoing through a distant tunnel. Spike was down. They were binding him with blessed ropes that burned through his skin as she watched, but he just kept apologizing to the dead little girl, sobbing like a man broken. Dawn too was sobbing. The girl was covered in blood that Faith feared was mostly Dawn's own.  
  
'B's gonna kill me. Maybe she should.'  
  
Andrew and Xander were no where to be found, and Faith found a moment to hope the two of them had gotten out before a mightily pissed off Slayer whose appearance fit every stereotype of a hardened prison Butch started pummeling Faith in the face.   
  
'Oh yeah. This is gonna be fun.'  
  
The elderly Slayer's decapitated head lay by her, the dead eyes boring into Faith's memory. It was a blessing when the darkness claimed her, and for the first time in years, Faith found herself hoping the light would never return.  
  
:Author's notes:  
  
Sorry for the cliffhanger ending. Thanks as always to Cliia!  
  
Only one feedback this time. *sighs* Oh well. Can't win them all.  
  
Bsktballchik: Thanks! Guess I didn't update as quickly as I should have. *grimaces* Sorry about that. I'll try to do better next time. ^_~ 


	7. part 7

The last thing Andrew remembered was being overrun by an endless torrent of women and girls. It brought images to mind of a tidal wave, a vast and limitless sea of bodies bearing weapons. Faith had tried to teach him some of the basics of self-defense, but the lessons never really took. He was one of the brains, he told himself. Spike and Faith and Buffy-wherever the hell she was-were the brawn.   
  
Unfortunately, no one bothered to explain that to the army of Slayers.  
  
Andrew didn't know how long he had managed to even remain consciousness. He liked to think he had been heroic and taken a few of his attackers down with him, but he knew better. If this had been a story, he was sure he would have been overcome by a powerful rage just in the nick of time, and cut through the girls like a scythe. But Andrew was no storybook hero. He couldn't remember the fight, but truth be told, he probably went down under the first girl to attack him.  
  
He hurt. God, how he hurt. Andrew was not accustomed to physical pain. It felt as though someone had shredded him from the inside out. He slowly opened his eyes to find himself abandoned in the wreck that had been Xander's room.  
  
'Xander! Oh god!'  
  
Andrew pushed himself painfully to his feet, certain that he was tearing joints, tendons?, and muscle loose? as he did so. There was nothing left in the room but himself, the ruined furniture and shards of glass from the broken window the Slayers had poured through god knew how long ago. The bedroom door was barely hanging by one battered hinge. Andrew focused all of his energy into moving-step by harrowing step-through that door and out into the hallway and the living room beyond.   
  
The living room was littered with corpses. The stench of blood and bile and he didn't want to know what else clogged Andrew's nostrils. His eyes refused to make sense of some of the gore, and for that he was grateful, because what he did see clearly would be enough to haunt his dreams for the rest of his life. This was wrong. Slayers were supposed to be a force for good-not for the Dark Side. The bodies that he was stepping around should have been their allies, not their enemies. It seemed as though the whole universe was out of balance.  
  
'We used to call them Potentials,' Andrew thought sadly as his eyes scanned the room. 'I guess we never really fully thought about what kind of potential they all had. And now, I guess, they don't have any potential for anything at all... Did I just hear something?'  
  
Yes, there was definitely something...a muffled whimper or a stifled groan. 'Xander. Please let it be Xander.' Andrew supposed he should be equally relieved to find out that the muffling was coming from Dawn, Spike, or Faith, but they were not currently foremost on his mind.   
  
For some reason it didn't occur to Andrew that it could have been one of the very people sent to attack them. Maybe it was just that the very idea was too frightening to consider. Could he kill someone, even knowing they had come to kill or capture them? Andrew didn't want to think about that once. He had killed once, and Jonathan's blood would stain his soul through this life and into the great beyond. He wasn't sure if he could kill again, no matter how justified.  
  
Xander was lying on the floor on his side, his back to Andrew. The younger man increased his pace, praying that the moaning had come from that dark head. "Xander! Xander, I'm coming." Andrew willed his voice to remain strong, to not betray the emptiness that was threatening to consume him. At best, Xander would be as deadened inside as he had been before the attack. At worst, Andrew could find himself facing Xander's last gasping breaths on this earth before finally fleeing the mortal coil that had treated the elder man so cruelly.  
  
'No. Don't think that. He isn't dying. He'll be fine. I can take the rest of it, but Xander will be fine. He has to be.'  
  
"Andrew?"  
  
Xander's voice was weak, but it was music to Andrew's ears. Amazing how the mere yards separating them took forever for the blonde to cross. "Xander, I'm coming."  
  
"Andrew," the voice was husky. It sounded like Xander had the worst cold in the history of time. "Where are you....where???"  
  
Andrew reached the older man's side. "Oh, thank god! Thank god you're..."   
  
Andrew's words died on his tongue. His hands flew to his mouth and tears flooded his eyes.  
  
"Andrew?"   
  
The deadness in Xander's voice burned itself into Andrew's memory. All Andrew wanted to do was cry-just lie on the ground with the other man and sob and hope the world came to an end. It was just too much. Even after everything else, this was enough to make Andrew want to finally give in.  
  
The eye-patch that had covered Xander's socket had been torn off. The brunette's face was covered in bruises and blood, but the only thing Andrew saw was the blood and gooey wreckage where Xander's remaining eye had been.  
  
"Andrew?" Xander's voice cracked. "Andrew? Where are you? It's so dark."  
  
The fear and pain in Xander's voice pulled Andrew away from thoughts of himself and his own exhaustion. Tears slid down his face as he took hold of Xander's trembling hand firmly in his own. "I'm here," he whispered. The effort it took to keep his voice from breaking was monumental. "I'm right here."   
  
'And I won't ever leave you alone...again.'   
  
:Author's Notes:  
  
Sorry again for the delay. I blame my job again.  
  
Bsktballchik: Thanks again! Sorry it took so long. I know you must be waiting for Faith (I figure since she's a focus in your story that she's a favorite of yours), and I promise she'll be in the next chapter.   
  
Cliia: So sorry, Ma'am! Maybe next time it won't take as long...yeah right! 


	8. part 8

Something was burning. The stench of it flooded Faith's nostrils and made her want to retch. Instead, she lay perfectly still, recalling the memory of the attack on their hideout, filled with dread. Her hands were bound behind her back, the coarse rope cutting into her wrists so her fingers were slick with blood. The pressure on her ankles assured her that her feet were similarly bound. Faith tested the strength of the bonds, but it was clear that whoever had confined her knew what they were doing. 'Makes sense, seeing as how they're all a bunch of Slayers themselves.'  
  
Faith took a brief moment to be glad she was alive. It was amazing really. She had never expected to draw breath again when she saw the wave of Slayers coming through the window, clearly out for blood. Yes, she was caught, and some or all of her friends-or maybe the right word was allies?-may have been killed, but she had gotten out of tighter situations than this, hadn't she?  
  
'Yeah right.'  
  
On the other hand, it made no sense whatsoever that she was alive. Faith knew she had lost count of the number of Abbey's army that she had killed; she knew it was well over a dozen. The look of disgust and hate on the face of the Slayer to finally take Faith down was enough to convince her that Abbey wasn't looking to win Faith over to her side. Since Abbey had never shown signs of mercy before, maybe being alive wasn't such a good thing.  
  
"Wake up, bitch!"  
  
Someone backhanded Faith hard across the face and she tasted fresh blood.   
  
'Of all the times I had to be right, it had to be now. No sense in pretending I'm out anymore.'   
  
Faith opened her eyes to find Abigail herself towering over her. Amazing how, up close, Abbey didn't look so frightening. She looked like a girl-an angry, frightened girl. There was so much hate and fear in her sunken hollow eyes, a softer person might have been tempted to pity her.  
  
'Uh huh. Pity the bitch that has murdered countless innocents and allied herself with soulless vamps and baby-eating demons? Not a chance. Never was a sucker for sob stories anyway. I'll leave that shit to Angel.'  
  
Abigail sneered, and all semblance of a damaged girl disappeared. "Hello, Faith."  
  
"Where are the others?" Faith demanded. She was in no mood to play polite, hopeless situation or not. If Abbey was going to kill her, she may as well trick Abbey into doing it quickly.  
  
Abbey cocked her head to the side. "Others?" she asked, though the cruel smirk on the rogue Slayer's face told Faith the younger girl knew damned well who Faith meant.  
  
"Is this why you kept me alive and went to the trouble of bringing me here?" Faith spat. "To play games? Because listen up, girlie. I'm not interested in playing games with you. I won't cooperate for your entertainment. You may think you're the big shit now, but I'm here to tell you-you're nothing. You've allied yourself with demons that will use you, then spit you like a pig and roast you over a fire once you've outlived your usefulness. So if you're gonna kill me, just do it. So I'll ask you again-where are my friends?"   
  
Faith expected more blows or maybe an arrogant laugh in response. The last thing in the world she expected was for Abbey to simply nod in agreement. "You're right, Faith. Some of your friends have been demons-Anyaka, Kevlorne, Angelus, William the Bloody, Clem. Though all of my demon allies aren't evil, many are. I know that Eventually they will overpower me."  
  
Faith was so surprised by the admission that she could only just sit there and stare dumbly at Abbey for several moments. "Then why the hell are you allying yourself with them?"  
  
The smirk was back on Abbey's face, and she kicked her prisoner hard in the ribs for no other apparent reason than the sheer pleasure of it. Faith grunted, but refused to give more of a reaction than that.  
  
Abbey laughed. "Tough girl, huh?"  
  
Faith glared at the girl through narrow eyes. "Tough enough that I don't need to keep someone tied up for me to beat 'em."  
  
Abbey's eyes narrowed to slits and she kicked Faith hard enough that the elder Slayer felt one of her ribs snap.  
  
'Yeah, girl,' Faith thought as the pain exploded across her chest. 'Getting that dig in was really worth it.'  
  
"The vampire is right over there." Abbey stepped to Faith's side, yanked the elder Slayer's head up by a handful of matted hair, and gestured to the other side of the darkened room.  
  
'Holy shit...'  
  
Now Faith knew what was burning, and it took everything she had to keep herself from heaving.   
  
Spike lay on the other side of the room, his naked body tied with the same coarse rope that bound Faith's limbs to a cross resting on a raised platform. His skin crackled as steam and smoke rose into the air. Water trickled down from the ceiling to land on his exposed chest. From the sizzle, Faith surmised it was holy water. Bile rose in her throat as she realized it wasn't just water trickling down the platform and puddling on the floor-it was also his melting skin. The bleached-blonde vampire did not move, though his pain must be tremendous. For a moment, Faith forgot her bonds and on pure instinct tried to jerk forward to the vampire's aid. She only succeeded in dislocating her shoulder from the force of her own strength, and in making the coarse ropes cut more deeply into bloody wrists and ankles.  
  
"You coward," Faith hissed, eyes hazing over with rage as Abbey stepped smirking back into her sight, blocking the tortured vampire from view. "You fucking cowardly bitch."  
  
"But he's just another vampire, isn't he?" Abbey asked sweetly.  
  
"Don't you fucking mock me! I told you-No games! You know what he is! You know he has a soul!"  
  
"Yes," Abbey said with that awful arrogant smirk that Faith wanted to tear from her face. "Yes, I know he does. But you won't for much longer."  
  
"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?" Faith demanded, though she honestly didn't much care.  
  
"What you said is true. I know that, sooner or later, the truly evil demons that are currently among my...allies...will turn on me. I need to be stronger. I need more power. What your witch friend awoke in me isn't enough. I know she's been trying to take it back, and so far you've been successful in hiding her from me. I need enough power to be sure that no one can ever defeat me-that no one can ever make me or my followers helpless again."  
  
"Awww," Faith said mocking, ignoring the voice of reason in the back of her head once more. "Does somebody have issues?"  
  
Abbey's face darkened and she punched Faith hard in the face. Faith's nose shattered, and she fell back on her back almost hard enough to knock the breath out of her lungs, but she still managed to laugh.   
  
"You're right, Abbey. If that's the best you got, you do need more strength."  
  
Abbey again yanked Faith up-why did it always have to be the hair?-glaring at her with eyes full of hate. The elder Slayer watched as the girl composed herself with visible effort. "Did you know that, even among vampire kind, it's forbidden to turn a Slayer?"  
  
"No, I really didn't, and I really don't care," Faith said irritably. She could smell Spike burning. It was enough to drive her mad.   
  
"I don't need to tell you of the power vampires have, and the power of The Slayer is stronger still. Legend has it that combining the two would create a force so great and terrible, it could lead to untold destruction-assuming the Slayer-turned-vampire's body could even survive the experience of harnessing that much power."  
  
'Oh shit.' Faith definitely did not like where this was going.  
  
"It's never even been attempted. Can you believe that? All these centuries-millennia even-of Slayers and vampires locked in never-ending combat, and not one of the bloodsuckers has ever even tried to Sire themselves a Slayer childe! I mean, granted, the vampire lucky enough to kill a Slayer may have been too busy trying to save himself from the business end of a stake to worry about procreating, but still!"  
  
"Yeah, it's really fascinating," Faith said distractedly. Her eyes scanned the room unable to find a means of escape. Her wrists struggled furiously against her bonds, but they only seemed to get tighter.  
  
"But you see, since it's never been done, I need a test case first, to see what happens. I'm not willing to destroy myself in the process." Abbey gestured, and a young vampire whose frilly costume suggested he read far too many Anne Rice novels came to her side. "Faith, this is Simon. He's barely a decade old-old enough to turn you, but young enough not to care about outdated superstition."  
  
Simon leaned in and pulled Faith's head to the side.   
  
"We have, of course, a whole coven of witches working their magic on you as a precaution. If the power does rise in you successfully, they will hold you in check and kill you once I'm satisfied. If the power doesn't rise, I'll just kill you myself." Abbey shrugged, a cruel smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Either way, you'll be dead."  
  
'No, no, no, no, NO!'  
  
Simon's teeth sunk into Faith's exposed throat and he began to drink. Even as the darkness started to take her, Faith imagined she could feel something crawling beneath her skin, like an electric spark.  
  
'No...no, no, no'  
  
It was all so wrong. The whole world felt damaged. None of this should ever have happened. She should be in prison, serving her due time, paying her penance-not out here, watching Spike cook across the room while this stupid fang boy with his goddamned frilly collar drained the life out of her, before turning her into a monster-an abomination.   
  
'If you're waiting for the last possible moment for a dramatic rescue, B-now would be a good time.'  
  
But there was no last minute raid, no spells from Willow or Giles, no Angel to break down the door.   
  
'Just as well,' Faith thought with a touch of hysteria as her vision faded and her body grew cold. 'I was never cut out to be the damsel in distress needing rescue anyway.'  
  
Faith thought she heard Simon say something. 'It's probably some line from a horrible movie,' she thought. She felt her head tip back as Simon pressed his wrist against her lips. She tried not to swallow his blood, but she was too weak from her own blood loss to spit let alone resist. His blood trickled down her throat and he released her. All she could do was fall bonelessly to the floor, as twilight became true darkness and claimed her. The fallen Slayer hoped, once more, that she would never again open her eyes-for the sake of the whole world.  
  
:Author's Notes:  
  
Just like with my Pirates story, I never get to update this one as much as I'd like. Please please please submit feedback!  
  
Bsktballchik: Thanks for your continued support! And hey-this was almost all Faith! ^_^ 


	9. part 9

::Author's notes: Thanks for all the recent feedback. A lot of you are asking where Buffy is, and frankly, the reason that she hasn't been around is that I don't like her character once you get past season 4. But I promise, I'll address the whereabouts of Buffy, Giles, and Willow soon. P.S. I just read my own postings here and was horrified at my own lack of proofreading! I apologize for all the errors and swear I will do a better job from now on!::  
  
Something was wrong. Angel could feel it in his bones. Granted, things had been wrong for months now, but Angel couldn't shake the feeling gnawing at his gut that things had just gotten even worse-impossible as that should be in a sane world.   
  
"Putting out fires."   
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
Angel hadn't even realized he had spoken out loud until he heard Wesley's question. In fact, he had been so deep in thought, he had forgotten that he was in the middle of a meeting with his top staff.  
  
Wes, Fred, Gunn, Lorne-these were the only people he truly trusted. They were also some of the very few people in all the world that Angel truly cared for. If his instincts were right, if something really was even more wrong than usual, one or more of them could be killed.  
  
'Not on my watch. I lost Cordy and Doyle, and I may as well have lost Connor-I won't lose any of the others.'  
  
"Putting out fires," he repeated, shuffling through the reports Wes had prepared on the LA branch of Wolfram and Hart's recent activity without really seeing them. "That's all we've been doing."  
  
"Well, wait a second, Angel-cakes," Lorne said. "I think we've done a pretty good job of keeping the good people of Los Angeles safe."  
  
"Yes, Lorne, we have. But this is bigger than LA. Much bigger. We've been fighting Abigail's people one by one, as they attack here. But they keep on coming."  
  
"You think we need to address the root of the problem," Wes said, his tone carefully neutral. The Englishman had argued the same point several times in the past few months, only to be shot down by his employer. "By going after Abigail herself."  
  
"But I thought you said you would let Buffy's people handle that?" Fred reiterated. Angel caught the gleam of challenge in her eyes. Wes wasn't the only one who had been arguing this point for some time, and she was not as inclined as he to let the matter drop without a word. Angel admired the transformation she had made upon returning with him to LA. Sometimes he forgot how much she had changed.   
  
"I've changed my mind. I've never been good at working the sidelines."  
  
Wes nodded and pulled out a satellite photo from the manila folder hidden beneath the pile of paper in front of him. It showed a good portion of the Western United States and was dated a few days before. Apparently, the Englishman was prepared for Angel to-as Wes would no doubt phrase it-come to his senses. "Abigail was last spotted in Arizona."  
  
"Why can't any of our enemies have their hideouts in ... oh, I don't know ... Jamaica or something?" Lorne complained. Stony stares met the demon's attempt at lightening the mood, and he slumped back into his seat. "Just a thought," he muttered under his breath.   
  
Wesley continued as if Lorne had never spoken. "I will ask our Seers to find her present location so we can plan our attack."  
  
"Great," Angel replied. "Have the Seers find her, but I'm going alone."  
  
A heavy silence followed this announcement, although Angel suspected it would be short lived before the full force of the words sunk in.  
  
Gunn was the first to speak. "The hell you are!"  
  
Angel held up a hand in what he knew was a futile gesture to try and calm his staff. "Gunn..."  
  
"Angel, it's too dangerous," Fred insisted. "We can help."  
  
"Guys, I know you can. But I need you to be here. Lorne's right-we can't ignore what's been going on here in LA. I need to know you are taking care of things here while I head out to Arizona or wherever the hell that power-crazy bitch is headquartered."  
  
"Well, I never meant for you to go off alone, you great big hero sandwich," Lorne began, before Gunn cut him off.  
  
"Like I'm gonna fall for that." Gunn crossed his arms firmly across his chest, eyes narrowed, reflecting the same determination Angel saw the first time they met when the younger man had fought against the undead with little more than heart and what he could scavenge from the streets.   
  
Angel couldn't help but smile-this was Gunn at his most stubborn. "I mean it, Gunn," he said nonetheless, voice firm. "Besides, I'm in charge. It's not like you have a choice here."  
  
Angel could see by the set in the younger man's shoulders that Gunn was ready to argue, but he was interrupted when Harmony burst through the door. It was the first time Angel was actually grateful that the blonde was interrupting a meeting against his explicit instructions.  
  
"Sorry, Boss," the young vampire said. "I know you said not to interrupt but this is really important."  
  
Angel had never seen the perky blonde looking so out of sorts before, alive or dead. Although vampires didn't need to breathe and had no heartbeat, Harmony was gasping and panting as if from unaccustomed exercise or stress. Her face was flushed and her eyes were wide and flooded with emotion. Angel decided to cut off Gunn's arguments by addressing the secretary. "It's okay, Harmony. What is it?"  
  
"Xander Harris is out there. With some guy I never met before."  
  
'Xander?' Angel's lifeless heart sank. 'Well, I can only assume that Xander and Harmony weren't best buddies at Sunnydale High, but why should that make her so upset? Unless he's come to bring more news that had to be personally delivered.' For a moment, he remembered seeing Willow arrive with the news of Buffy's death. Harmony's apprehension was contagious and the room was suddenly a bit too small. The apprehension turned to dread and permeated every corner the room. "Okay. It's okay, Harm. Send them in."  
  
Harmony nodded and seemed relieved to disappear through the door. She returned a moment later, with a blonde young man who Angel had never seen before behind her. The stranger was leading Xander by the hand, and it suddenly became apparent why Harmony had been so distraught.  
  
'Oh my god.'  
  
Both young men looked worse for the wear, bruised, scabbed and dirty. The weariness that encircled them must have come from days running with no peace. The blonde one's eyes were haggard and haunted, and although Angel was under the impression he was a very young man, the stranger looked old. Angel couldn't see Xander's eyes. A dirty and bloodied rag was tied around his head. Between the rag covering the dried bloody streaks of older injuries with dirtied bruised hollows peeking out from beneath it, and the way the blonde boy was leading Xander around, Angel realized with a sickening sensation in his gut that Xander was blind.  
  
"Good lord," Wes was saying, his voice low with horror. Aside from Harmony and Angel, Wesley was the only person in the conference room who had met Xander before and could appreciate the difference in the boy's appearance and demeanor. Still, the site of the two of them was enough to make Lorne gasp, to send Fred's hands flying to her pale lips, and to make Gunn's eyes widen with sympathy.  
  
"Angel?" Xander's voice was raspy and hollow. "Andrew..."  
  
Andrew rubbed at Xander's arm soothingly. "It's okay, Xander. He's right here."  
  
"Please, sit down," Angel said. The waves of exhaustion and suffering rolling off the two visitors was enough to make his soul ache. "Harmony, bring some water or something."  
  
Harmony nodded and disappeared back through the door, emerging moments later as Andrew helped his blinded companion to a seat before taking one himself. Angel couldn't help but notice that Xander continued to cling to the blonde's hand like a lifeline even after they were seated. It was strange. The Xander Harris Angel knew would never have allowed himself to so openly display such dependence on another man.   
  
'I guess having your eyes gouged out can change you.'  
  
Angel and Xander had never been friends. There had been times when the vampire had downright hated the younger man-partly from jealousy at Xander's ability to walk in the daylight and see Buffy with the sun shining on her face, but mostly because Xander made it clear from the get-go that he hated Angel, and really kind of wished the vampire had not survived those horrible months when he lost his soul. Still, that was a long time ago, and Angel would never wish this kind of pain on any living being.  
  
'Well,' Angel had to admit, as images of Holtz and Lindsey flashed briefly through his mind. 'Maybe there are some people who I wouldn't mind seeing suffer.'  
  
"What happened to you two?" Wesley asked.  
  
"We were ambushed. Abbey found our hideout and sent a whole army of Slayers after us," Andrew replied, voice completely devoid of emotion. "We didn't stand a chance. I got knocked out early on, but when I woke up, Dawn, Spike, and Faith were gone. It was just me and then I found Xander..."   
  
Andrew's voice caught and this time it was Xander who stroked the younger man's arm, providing comfort. "It's okay, Andrew." Xander spoke so softly that Angel barely heard him.  
  
Andrew smiled fondly at the brunette. "Thank you, little one. You are so brave," the haggard blonde said quietly, before raising his voice to finish addressing the others in the room. "I don't know where the others are, but I can only assume they were taken. I guess they decided the two of us weren't worth the trouble to bring along. The others weren't among the dead."  
  
"How long ago was this?" Angel asked.  
  
Andrew paused before answering. "I've sort of lost track of time. Days. We came here. We didn't know where else to go."  
  
"You'll be safe here," Fred said gently. Her voice was layered with emotions, but Angel could see that she now had another face for the cause they fought for.  
  
Andrew gave a tiny smile. "Thank you, lady."  
  
"Where's Buffy?" Angel asked finally, cutting through the pain that permeated every crevice of the room.   
  
"Isn't that the question of the day?" Andrew snapped, voice rife with bitterness.  
  
"She and Giles and Willow went to England to find some kind of artifacts or something to undo Will's spell," Xander said softly. "We haven't heard from them in weeks."  
  
Angel felt a sudden surge of resentment at his ex. So maybe Buffy didn't know her friends had been attacked and were in danger, but he couldn't imagine any situation where he would leave his friends behind for weeks without checking in to at least see if they were safe-OK, so maybe there was that time he was running around with Darla, but still! Even though Faith was more than capable...  
  
'Faith...'  
  
Angel didn't really know quite how to sort out his complicated feelings for the formerly rogue Slayer. What he did know was that he cared for her, deeply, and that he would not abandon her to whatever horrible fate Abigail had planned. She could be dead, but something deep inside told him she wasn't. If there was even the tiniest chance that she and Dawn, and hell even Spike, were alive, he would not rest until he found them.  
  
Angel rose from his seat and headed for the door. Wes and Fred hurried to catch up with him. "Angel, what are you planning?" Wes demanded. "Now is not the time to be rash."  
  
"I'm going to the Seers to try and find Faith and the others. And I'm going alone."  
  
"But..."  
  
"No buts, Fred. I won't put the rest of you in any more danger than necessary. Besides, I need you to keep putting out the fires, and I need you to take care of them." Angel gestured back at Xander and Andrew, who were currently being fussed over by Lorne.  
  
Fred looked as though she was about to argue, but Wes put a hand on her arm and shook his head. Everyone knew how stubborn Angel could be, and once his mind was made up, there was no point in arguing. The Englishman had known Angel long enough to have figured that out. Besides, the people of LA needed protection, and it was clear that their two visitors were also in dire need of help as well. "Be careful, Angel."  
  
"I will. I swear. You guys, too. I'll check in every night if I can."   
  
Fred pulled Angel into an impromptu hug with a fond smile that the vampire returned. "If you don't come back, I'm never going to forgive you," she said, the trembling in her voice belying any threat.  
  
"I promise I'll be back." Angel turned to leave them, when a final thought occurred to him. He glanced over his shoulder. "Oh yeah, and will you do me one more favor?"  
  
"Of course," Wesley replied.  
  
Angel's voice was laced with bitterness as he gave his final order. "Find Buffy," he said, as the door closed behind him.   
  
::response to comments::  
  
Jess: Thanks! I swear, I will finish this story. I feel your pain-I too have read stories I really like and they never get finished. I won't do that I swear-it just may take me a while to update.   
  
Rma: Don't worry-we haven't heard the last of Faith and I swear the ending of this story, while it won't exactly be happy, will at least be bittersweet. And Buffy and the rest will be in the next chapter.  
  
Bsktballchik: Thanks again for your continued support! As for updating soon...well, does me taking a month count? Sorry. 


	10. part 10

::Author's notes: Hello again. So, Angel is over and this story has gotten more and more AU by the moment. Anyway I'm giving you a **WARNING**. I do not like Buffy Summers. I think, after the 4th season, she becomes a self-righteous, self-centered character who treats the people in her life—particularly her various lovers and her sister—like crap. Yes, she goes through a lot, but so do the others and they don't all turn into self- pitying jerks. I really stopped liking her after she chased Faith to LA in Season 1 of Angel and gave him such a hard time, and that whole "Immortal" thing in this season of Angel did nothing to make me like her any more. Anyway, this chapter is not flattering to her, so if you're a big fan of Ms. Summers, be warned, and I apologize if I offend you.::  
  
Rupert Giles shot out of sleep with a start. The dream he was having had been pleasant; Jenny was alive and they were celebrating their son's second birthday, just the way things should have been if only life were more like a Disney fairy tale. They had just been about to smear cake into each other's faces, mimicking their toddler, when a feeling of utter dread and horror slammed into him with all the subtlety of a jetliner. Sweat dripped down his face, soaking his nightshirt through. Giles could not quite put his finger on what was wrong, but he was absolutely certain that the world was on the brink of a catastrophe of such magnitude that it would make all of their previous near-apocalypses seem like a cakewalk.  
  
Fumbling for his glasses on the endtable, he threw them crookedly on his face and quickly padded out of his hotel room door, heading for Willow and Buffy's room. The waves of dread were disorienting even as the phantoms of dreams left him. They were in Italy now, had been for nearly two weeks, searching for the location of an ancient artifact that would help Willow undo the spell she had cast when creating the Slayer army. Or rather, he hoped they would find said artifact. The ancient scrap of papyrus they uncovered in London had pointed to this tiny Italian town, but so far every piece of information they had uncovered had simply been archaic riddles pointing to the location of the next clue. The three of them had been hopping all over the world as if they were on a treasure hunt, finding clues leading to even more clues, but no miraculous talisman.  
  
_ 'I feel like I'm living in the bloody Da Vinci Code.'_  
  
Giles was so distraught by the feeling that the spiritual world had been knocked off its axis that he didn't notice Buffy until he had literally walked into her. Buffy was not faring much better than her Watcher. The blonde was clearly distraught, hair disheveled, a tiny line of stress formed between her eyebrows. "Giles," she said, tugging at his arm anxiously. "It's Willow." She turned and headed back to her room with a pace that Giles would have envied had he not been so preoccupied by the feeling of impending doom which seemed to be growing.  
  
Giles quickened his steps but a middle-aged Englishman could not come near to matching a twenty-something Slayer in her prime. Willow was on the floor, curled up in a fetal position, moaning to herself, hissing as though she were in physical pain. Buffy crouched beside her, speaking the witch's name, trying to bring Willow back to herself. Giles had a fleeting thought it was strange how, not so long ago, the women had found their positions reversed with Willow cajoling and coaxing the preoccupied Slayer back to herself. Willow was more in tune with the mystical world more than anyone he had ever met, and that was saying a lot. If he were feeling dread powerful enough to make Giles want to retch, it followed that she must be in pure agony.  
  
"Willow," Giles whispered, doing his best to sound comforting and strong, just like he knew the girls needed him to be. "Willow, I'm here."  
  
The redhead's eyes cracked open the slightest bit. "Giles?" she asked, voice hoarse.  
  
Giles nodded. His fingers traced soothing patterns through her knotted hair.  
  
"Giles," Willow continued, so softly the Englishman practically had to press his ear to her lips to hear her. "Giles, something is wrong. So wrong... Out of balance, the whole world."  
  
"Willow, you're not making any sense!" Buffy said anxiously, and looked none too pleased when Giles shushed her. "What could possibly be out of balance? The Hellmouth is gone."  
  
Giles shot Buffy a silencing glance, but paid her words no mind. "Yes, something's wrong," he said, doing his damnedest to sound encouraging. "I feel it too. But Willow, can you tell what it is?"  
  
"The whole world is wrong. All wrong. It should never have happened. It's been forbidden since the struggle began." The redhead shot up suddenly to a sitting position, her fingers clawing at the Brit's pajama sleeves. "We have to stop her. Giles, we have to stop her before it's too late."  
  
"Will, we know about Abbey. That's why we're here."  
  
"I don't think she's talking about Abigail...at least, not directly, Buffy," Giles said.  
  
"Well, who else could she be talking about?" Buffy was indignant. Months of jet lag and minimal sleep did not make for a perky Slayer.  
  
"I don't know, Buffy," Giles said, a bit more snappishly than he really intended. "But Abigail has been in power for almost a year now, and this...shift...in the mystical energies happened just tonight. Rather suddenly, I might add. Can't you feel it?"  
  
Buffy was silent for several moments before agreeing with the Watcher.  
  
"So don't you think it follows that this is something new?"  
  
"Or, it could be that Abbey has done something to make everything else all wacky," Buffy countered.  
  
Giles considered. "Perhaps."  
  
"I think it's both."  
  
Giles and Buffy turned their attention back to Willow, who had just spoken. The witch was deathly pale, save for the bright red splotches on her cheeks and sheen of sweat on her forehead that made her look like a child with a bad case of the flu. Giles took Willow's hands firmly in his own. Looking at her now, struggling through obvious pain and discomfort, made him feel what he could only call a paternal sense of pride.  
  
_ 'She's suffered so much, since I first met that shy and mousy girl at Sunnydale High. Oz, Tara, Kennedy—she lost them all, and nearly lost herself in the process. Such a brave girl.'  
_  
"Talk to me, Will," Buffy was saying. "What do you know?"  
  
"I felt a new power rising," Willow responded weakly. "Something big. Something dangerous. Something like the world has never seen."  
  
Buffy rolled her eyes. "Like I've never heard that before."  
  
"But it's different this time, Buffy," Willow insisted. "It's like the whole world has gone out of balance."  
  
"It's different every time, Will!" Buffy said, voice raising in frustration. "Every time it's something new, something even more dark and dangerous than the last monster I had to kill! Bad enough I had to fight The Master and The Mayor and Glory and Adam and The First. Now I have to fight a whole army of Slayers who are supposed to be on our side and you're telling me there's something else?"  
  
"Buffy," Willow insisted. "I'm sorry but..."  
  
"Everybody is always sorry! I am sick of people being sorry. Fighting The First was supposed to be the end, Will. It was supposed to be the last big battle before I got to live a normal life! We awakened hundreds—no, thousands—of Slayers. They should be the ones taking over the fight. I've done more than my share."  
  
The witch looked as though she'd been slapped. The glare Buffy pinned her with was almost a physical blow. Willow looked as though she wilted inside her skin. Giles could only guess it was the guilt still haunting her from finding out she had saved Buffy from her eternal reward. He had enough from his former charge.  
  
"Well, believe it or not, everything isn't always about you," Giles snapped.  
  
Buffy's mouth dropped open and she gawked at her Watcher in utter disbelief. "What?"  
  
"I know you wanted to retire. I know that you wanted to have freedom, Buffy, and I'm truly sorry that things did not work out as you planned. But the fact is, we all had a part in awakening Abigail, and we all have a responsibility to stop her; even if she isn't the last Big Bad we ever have to face. And really, Buffy! Did you honestly think that once we defeated The First that all the evil in the world was going to disappear with it? Did you really intend on just turning your back on your responsibilities and on the rest of the world? Suppose all the new Slayers had the same attitude? Did that thought even cross your mind?"  
  
Buffy's jaw snapped closed with an almost audible snap. For a moment, Giles felt terribly guilty. Maybe he had taken it too hard on the girl. She had suffered, after all, more than any human being ever should have too. Just because she had grown preachy and prone to giving condescending speeches that her younger self would never have tolerated did not lessen his love for her.  
  
Unfortunately for the Watcher, he didn't have time for her wounded ego just now; never mind that he wanted nothing more but to hold the two frightened young women in front of him and play the father, promising that the monsters were not real. There was no time. Right now, there were more important things to worry about, no matter how deeply that pained him.  
  
"Willow," Giles said to redhead—who was clearly shocked at the Watcher's outburst. "Do you think you can find the source of the disturbance?"  
  
The witch's eyes fluttered briefly shut. Her head dropped and her shoulders slumped from the exhaustion. But nonetheless, she nodded. "Yes. Just give me a minute, okay?" Her voice was filled with hesitation, as if she expected Giles to snap at her the way he had at his Slayer.  
  
The Watcher smiled gently. "Of course. Take whatever time you need."  
  
Willow looked about ready to faint with relief.  
  
"What about Abbey?" Buffy asked.  
  
"If what Willow says is true, and they are related, hopefully we'll be able to kill two birds with one stone."  
  
Buffy folded her arms over her chest, still clearly annoyed at Giles earlier snippiness. "And if they're not related?"  
  
Giles sighed. "Then I guess Abbey may just have to wait."  
  
Buffy rolled her eyes once more. "What else is new?"  
  
::Feedback Response::  
  
Again, thanks for the feedback! It makes me so happy.   
  
rma: Well, you can see I've let you know what Buffy and Willow have been doing finally. Only took me 9 chapters to do it. And I will get back to Faith in the next chapter, I swear!  
  
bsktballchik: Thanks for your continued patience! You know—I don't know if I want Faith to end up with Angel or with Spike. What do you think?  
  
Darklight: Thanks. I just have this thing where I like dark, angsty fics. No idea where that came from in me, but what can you do? 


	11. part 11

::Author's Notes:: I can't apologize enough for how long it always takes me to update my fanfiction. I know it drives me crazy when I'm really into a good fanfic and it never gets updated or completed. So to those of you who have stuck with this story, I want to offer a million thank yous and a million apologies. And, again, I will try to be better in the future—if only my stupid job will let me. Also, this chapter is kinda short. Sorry!::  
  
The power was so colossal, any description Faith would have verbalized if she could have would have been an understatement. The rush washed over her, through her. For a moment she felt like Sunnydale itself with her personal Armageddon between the Power of the Slayer and the Power of the Vampire ripping at the very essence of her being, at war with one another—natural opposing forces made to exist in one small human body. As if dying from that vamp in his stupid ruffled cape wasn't enough, her resurrection was like a new definition of hell. Her senses were more alert than ever, and had she been able to form coherent thought, Faith might have said she could feel the change in each individual cell of her body. As it was, all she could do was retch and writhe on the floor.  
Then, with a suddenness that would have made her heart stop had her body still lived, the war raging inside of her ended. The two sources of power stopped warring and merged. Faith's screaming paused, before turning to laughter. Her soul slipped away into the ether and she knew, if she wanted it, the world could be hers.  
_'First things first.'  
_ Faith could feel the coven of witches and their futile attempts to contain her. It was with immense satisfaction that she realized that these were some of the most powerful dark witches on Earth.  
_ 'Aww. I'm touched. So much trouble for little old me.'  
_ They were all still connected to her, and with the same effort it would cost her to curl a finger, she looped their magic, turning back onto them. Their bodies, and in all probability souls, were consumed by it. Not even ashes remained.  
Faith cracked a smile and turned her attention to the wretched Slayer who had done this to her. Abbey clearly had no idea what had just happened; that her coven was obliterated and she was utterly defenseless.  
Faith recalled a conversation she had years ago, while being trained by her first Watcher, days before the woman had been mutilated by Kekistos. A vampire had taken one of her schoolmates. Even though Faith had only known the boy in passing, at fifteen, she nonetheless found the idea of driving a stake through someone she had once known, however casually, a little too much to take.  
"The vampire may look like your friend," Priscilla had said, in that maddeningly calm tone. "He may move like Tony, speak like him, he may even recall his human life—but he is not him. Tony's soul is gone. The thing that is in his body is something completely different. The shell is the only thing the demon and the boy have in common."  
_ 'Not exactly right, Watcher.'_  
As a matter of fact, Faith felt like precisely the same person she was before her transformation. She was more infinitely more power, yes, but her essence remained Everything that made her "Faith" was the same—save one minor detail. There was no conscience.  
So she still hated Abbey, for everything the little bitch had done to her, and would feel no guilt whatsoever at taking her revenge.  
The look on Abigail's face when Faith grabbed the girl by the throat and lifted her in the air was priceless. "Oh, come on, Abbey," Faith said, her sarcastic tone sounding much like the one she had used to such good effect when she was human. "Don't tell me you didn't see this coming?"  
Abigail kicked and sputtered. She strained with all of her Slayer- imbued strength to release herself from Faith's grip, but it was no use. Faith's newfound power was so immense, the traditional power of the Slayer was infinitesimal by comparison.  
Faith shook her head. "I mean, think about it. You turn me into something so powerful that it's been forbidden since time immemorial, and you thought a bunch of Blessed-Bes could stop me. Think, girl."  
Abbey struggles were getting weaker, her face going from red to purple.  
"I'm disappointed, Abbey," Faith continued, then paused for a moment. "But then again, you've always been an idiot, haven't you?"  
All it took was a little concentration, and Faith caused the Slayer's heart to seize one final time before it beat no more. Faith released her grip, and Abbey crashed to the ground, clutching her chest, blood bubbling out of her mouth.  
The doors crashed open and Faith found herself staring at two of the ugliest demons she had ever seen—and that was saying something. They were big, mean, and brawny, covered in scales and dripping with goo that sizzled when it splashed on the floor—the sorts of things that even give the monsters nightmares. They looked down to see their former leader taking her few last breaths before going completely still.  
"Hey," Faith said, sounding positively cheerful.  
The two demons dropped immediately to their knees, and while Faith could not understand their guttural language, she knew instinctively that they were swearing allegiance to her.  
_ 'Cool.'_  
They were still going on and on, and Faith soon grew bored and decided she'd had enough. "Yeah," she said, cutting them off. "That's great." With a disdainful glare, she kicked Abbey's body. "Get this thing out of here, would you? And spread the word that I'm the boss now. Let everyone know there's a new big bad in town." One of the demons immediately leapt to its feet to drag Abigail's body out by a handful of her hair, the other following.  
A dripping sound behind her caused Faith to turn around. Spike's skin had been so abraded by the cross and holy water that his organs were being exposed. He was finally blessedly unconscious, but could not survive much longer under such a brutal assault.  
"Wait!" Faith snapped, amused that these hulking brutes actually cringed. She gestured back at Spike. "Get him the fuck off of that thing," she said darkly. "And get him some blood so he can start to heal. Fresh blood." She knew that Spike would never agree to such a thing, but blood from a still-beating heart was much stronger than blood from a refrigerator. It went without saying that the source would be human—she knew the demons would just assume so. Hopefully, Spike was too oblivious to care.  
The demon looked confused, but it clearly knew better than to argue. It shuffled over towards the unconscious vampire.  
"If any harm comes to him," Faith said, the hard-edged warning in her tone unmistakable. "I will hurt you so bad, you'll beg me to kill you, and I'll have only just begun."  
The demon didn't need to be warned twice. If Spike hadn't looked so pathetic, it might have been funny to watch the demon handling the vampire as if he were made of glass.  
_ 'Hell,'_ Faith thought, twisting her lips in a crooked smile, _'maybe it is still funny.'_

::Feedback Response::

Insane Sketchbook: lol Well, I'm glad to finally meet another hater of Ms. Buffy Summers. I swear, I won't let Buffy kill Faith. And I really, really, really, will try to remember to update soon.

bsktballchik: laughs Well, it's not like I'm decisive either, so I guess I'll decide where Faith ends up as I write later. Thanks for your constant support!

VampireBunny1: Great name, BTW. I'm glad you enjoyed it. And I'm glad to meet yet another person who feels as I do about Ms. Summers. I hope that this chapter was worth the wait.


	12. part 12

::Warning: this chapter contains character death. (Maybe I should have warned about that before I killed Faith too, even though she's "back" huh? Sorry)::  
  
Spike was no stranger to pain. In fact, after his early relationships with Dru and Angelus, and his later relationship with the Slayer, he had come to consider pain an old acquaintance. A deep dark part of him even enjoyed the pain sometimes, though less now that his soul had returned than before, for some strange reason. He had once draped himself over a cross, after all, without so much as a flinch. There was a certain triumph in overcoming that which would have destroyed a lesser man—not to mention the fact that the look on a bloke's face when you impaled yourself first was intoxicating. All that aside, nothing could have prepared him for the excruciating agony of prolonged hours lying on the cross, tormented with holy water leisurely dripping on to him long enough to expose his innards and melt them into so much goo pooling on the floor. The pain had been maddening.

That made it more than a little surprising when Spike woke up feeling not only pain-free and whole, but strangely more energized than he'd been in years. Reflexively, he reached down to touch his stomach, running his hands along his own torso and surprised to find unmarked skin where melted innards should be. _'Huh. Interesting.'_ __  
  
"Spike!" Spike looked up in time to see Dawn throwing herself at him. He wrapped his arms around her, attempting to calm the girl down as she clamped herself firmly onto him, sobbing hysterically. "Shh. It's okay, little bit."

Dawn pulled herself together with visible effort and drew back from the vampire's embrace. She looked terrible, suffering and horror etched into her tear-stained face and bloodshot eyes. "I thought you were gonna die," she gulped, then paused, considering her words. "Or, you know, like die the rest of the way."

"You'll never get rid of me that easily," Spike replied, with what he privately thought was considerable bravado.

Dawn rewarded him with a tiny tug at her lips that the vampire was willing to accept as a smile, given the circumstances.

"So, little bit. What happened? All I remember was fighting Abbey's little misfit army. I got knocked out...the rest is a blur." _'No need to tell the girl about Abbey's little game of melt the Spike.'_ _  
  
_ "Oh, I'll fill you in, Lover." Spike turned to find Faith standing in the doorway behind him, wearing a smug and self-satisfied smile. Power rolled off of the Slayer in waves, charging every crevice of the room. Even the most thick-headed fledge would have felt it. To a Master vampire like Spike, the force of it was nearly overwhelming. He had been in the presence of The First Evil and a goddess (though he privately thought that if Glory was a goddess, it was a wonder mankind hadn't taken over the universe), but never had he been confronted with anything this intense. Faith had become the ultimate taboo of the spiritual world—a Slayer who was also a vampire, utterly forbidden by even the basest servants of evil from the beginning of time.

_ 'Bloody hell.'_ _  
  
_ Faith sauntered over to the bleached blonde, ignoring a terrified Dawn who scampered out of her way.

"Well," Spike said, his voice characteristically dry. "This is an interesting development. I mean, I knew Abbey was a moron, but even I didn't think she was that daft."

Faith grabbed Spike in a possessive grip and rammed her tongue down his throat. Always the sexual being, he found himself responding in kind, until the sound of Dawn whimpering brought him back to himself and he pulled away.

Faith smirked. "Nice to see that after all you've been through, you can still rise the occasion." She gestured at the tight leather pants someone had dressed Spike in, and the vampire was mortified to find himself actually blushing at his body's betrayal. "For a while there, I thought you were a goner. I mean, I've seen some sick shit in my time, but man, Blondie. Melted intestines dripping all over the floor has to be tops."

"Yeah, well, I'm a quick healer," Spike retorted quickly, before a thought gave him pause.

_ 'How did I manage to heal so fast?'_ _  
  
_ He had never felt more sick in his unlife as he felt when the answer dawned on him. Faith laughed. "Yeah, Lover. Human blood is powerful stuff."

Spike's first thought—_Can she read my thoughts now?—_was quickly replaced by the horror and guilt that flooded him as he realized what he had done. He had twice sworn never to drink of human blood again, once when his soul had been restored, and again after he had finally broken free of The First's control. As Faith gestured to a pile of cold human bodies that Spike had failed to notice in his concern for Dawn, the vampire realized he'd have to make that vow a third time. _'No. Oh, god, no.'_ _  
  
_ It was all he could do to hold himself together. He had killed, again. He had killed the members of Abbey's army that had invaded the hideout, and now he had apparently drained others who were in all probability innocent. Or at least, as innocent as any human being could be.

_ 'No. Nonononononononono...'_ __  
  
Whether he had been awake and aware was beside the point. He could feel the blood of the slaughtered innocents poisoning his body and soul, healing his wounds only to lacerate his spirit. He wondered if he would ever be clean again. Faith was laughing at him, clearly pleased with herself, darker than she had ever been even when she had joined forces with the Mayor.

"Spike!"

Dawn's voice was choked with terror. She watched through wide and watery eyes as her lone protector cracked under the guilt, and Spike knew he could not afford to give in. Not now, when the little bit needed him.

Faith was still laughing. "Oh, Baby," she said with mock concern. "You're so...sensitive. Where's that bad boy who terrorized Sunnyhell and charmed the socks off of girls even as he drained them? Never took you for the "sensitive new age man" type."

Spike moved to place himself protectively between himself and Dawn, who for her part gripped him from behind with enough force to turn her fingers white, and buried her face in his shoulder. "This isn't you, Faith. You and I...we may not be friends, but I've always respected you. You're not a common killer."

"How sweet! Blondie is trying to reason with me!" The sarcastic gleam in Faith's eyes darkened, and Spike was sure the temperature in the room dropped at least 20 degrees. "You're right, Lover. I'm anything but "common". And yes, I know what you're thinking. I can hear you without even trying. You're thinking, "The bint can still be saved. Red will see to that." What, you think I want to end up like you and Angel, a mopey do- gooder who will spend centuries fighting the good fight with a tragic loner complex. Well, thanks but no thanks, Lover. I tried the whole redemption thing and obviously," Faith paused, gesturing all the corpses that littered the room. "It didn't take."

"I hear you, pet," Spike said, glancing around, trying to surmise a way to escape. Dawn trembled against his back as if she were a blade of grass fighting a tsunami. He had to get her out of there.

"No, I don't think you do. I can hear your thoughts, Spike, remember?" Faith pointed a finger and tapped her temple for emphasis. "I can hear the thoughts of every creature for a 100 miles. You can't surprise me. You can't stop me. I let you live so you can go tell good old B that I'm here. I want you to send that bitch a message."

"Really," Spike stalled. "What makes you think I'll be your delivery boy? Never was good at playing the lackey type."

Faith moved so quickly, it was too fast for Spike to see. He felt Dawn being pulled from him, heard her terrified scream, and found himself rooted to the spot, literally unable to move as Faith held him immobile with the sheer force of her will. Totally helpless, he had no choice but to watch as Faith bared her fangs, plunged them into the younger Summers' throat, and drained the girl of every last drop before letting Dawn's lifeless body fall to the ground.

"Yummy," Faith said, running her tongue over her lips.

The paralysis that had held Spike was released, and he dropped to the floor beside Dawn, shaking her shoulders, calling her name, searching desperately for any sign of life.

The girl's head just rolled to the side, her skin stone cold.

Spike glared up at Faith, and in a fit of rage flung himself at her, only to be knocked back against the wall with a sickened crack as the Slayer batted him away as casually as she would a gnat. "You bitch," Spike snarled, knowing he didn't stand a chance in hell against her but not caring. "You will pay for this. I won't rest until you pay!"

Faith strolled casually over to a door and flung it open. The night sky beckoned outside, cruelly calm and peaceful despite the senseless murder that had just been committed. "You're free to go, Lover," Faith said.

Spike wanted nothing more than to tear Faith's head off, Slayer power be damned. But he couldn't leave Dawn here. He had failed to protect her life, but he would not let her rot in this gods-forsaken place—even if it meant giving in to Faith's wishes and serving as her "messenger". He scooped the girl up carefully, cradling her in his arms as he headed into the cool evening air.

"Say hi to B for me."

Spike paused. His eyes rested on Dawn's face, and what was left of his heart spasmed as he realized he would never hear her voice again. "She'll kill you for this," he said softly, suddenly drained. He didn't even bother to turn around.

"Well," Faith conceded, utterly unconcerned, "I'm sure she'll try."

::Author's notes::

Thank you thank you thank you to my wonderful reviewers! I really appreciate your taking the time to read this and review. I hope you all don't hate me after this chapter.

Feedback Response:

Insane Sketchbook: Hee! And here I thought I was alone in hating Buffy. As for Xander (and I promise he'll be back soon)...I'll have to think about that--although you're right, it would be fun.

MSA: OK--here's the explanation for why I like Faith and killed her, but hate Buffy and let her live. See, I have this sick thing where, when I'm writing, I love to torment the characters I love. I know, it makes no sense. I love Spike, so I eviscerate him. I love Xander, now he's blind. I love Faith, so I turn her into a freak. shrugs What can I say? I'm just a weirdo.

bsktballchik: I'm glad I've kept your attention and I'm glad you keep reading even though I take forever to update. Evil Faith is kinda fun to write, I have to admit.

Darklight: Sorry you don't like how Faith killed humans, but I really feel like she just would have. I mean, she's the Big Bad now and has no soul. What if I promise this will have an eventual happy ending?

wavscaper: I'm glad you're enjoying it! And I'll see about a solution... See, I like my fic full of horrible angst but I like them to end on a sense of hope. So, I'll see what I can do.

rma: Computerless! ACK! How did you survive! And please, don't worry about how long it took to review when I know it takes me a while to update. You're the second person to ask me to have someone slap Buffy, so I may just have to do that. Although, I guess killing kid sis was probably worse. poor Dawn--I actually like her And I guess now you can see she doesn't really care about Spike. P.S. laughs In the Anita Blake books, if the heart and head are intact, vamps live, so I'll steal that principle. And you don't want Faith with Angel or Spike, huh? Well, I do love ships, but maybe you can convince me.


End file.
